


Eclipse

by kheradihr



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Renée Suvien, Set during comrades, spoilers for entire game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-04-17 13:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14189679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kheradihr/pseuds/kheradihr
Summary: Renée Suvien was Kingsglaive. She should have died with them, before them, when she and Crowe were targeted. Instead she woke to a darkening world where almost everyone she knew and loved were dead. But she was Kingsglaive and she had a King -- absent but alive. She would still serve.Falling in love with the Marshal was not a part of that service.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinRyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinRyan/gifts).



> This started when I created my Kingsglaive PC in Comrades, then Ry demanded her story and things just kind of exploded from there.

     Fenestala Manor was a dream to visit in summer. Renée Suvien stretched out on the low wall separating an outer terrace from the cliffside and ocean below letting the mists and wind cool skin just starting to sunburn. One side of her body hung free while the other could easily reach the snacks left by her aunt, one of the Manor’s stewards, happy beyond belief that her niece was alive. She had no assignments that day; Prince Noctis was in an upper terrace playing with Princess Lunafreya and her two dogs, their parents watching on. Sylph sang a breathy aria somewhere within the craggy mountains that made up Renée's ancestral home. When she reached, she could feel the Crystal, Eos' beating heart and her connection to magic. Through that, as Gentiana taught her scant weeks ago, she could sense the Astrals and like spreading spiderwebs, their Messengers. Three Messengers glowed brightly in her vision above her and she let go of the power, comforted. She was no longer alone and that was comforting.

     Thick clouds blew through as they did in Tenebrae and Renée felt her body become heavy. Within the clouds ice crystals formed on her skin like armor from a Protect spell.

     "Awaken, vassal. We need witness for the time to come. The Chosen King’s triumph is nigh." Gentiana intoned, gently touching her shoulder. She reached for that hand but it turned to diamond dust that dug its way into her skin, spreading healing magic through her body. The Manor slowly faded around her, devoured by clouds tinged the same blue as Shiva’s ice.

     "What do you mean," she demanded as she struggled to sit up, body suddenly shivering and aching. She knew this feeling, it was called stasis shock amongst the Glaive and Guard. The human body could only hold and channel so much magic and relentlessly depleting that reservoir could cause one to lose the ability to channel that aspect of the Crystal's power. There were even cases of Glaive dying staying in stasis too long. Every time she went into stasis more icy magic filled her body before it burned away activating cure spell after cure spell. The area around her glimmered and began slowly closing in. Unwilling to let this place take her without some answers, she called out to the High Messenger, "What am I to witness? Where are the others? What happened? Gentiana!"

     Renée launched upright, the bandages holding her body together straining from her movement, hand going to the necklace resting against her collar bone. It hung there, the six charms all body-warm and present. Clawing at the bandages, she shook herself free enough to swing her legs over the bed she was in and stand. She was hungry, legs shaking like she tried to keep up with a chocobo flock in full flight. A thought and her spear was in hand, helping support her as she dragged her body across the small room and began digging through cupboards to find food. There were rations and packs of ammunition side-by-side in the cupboards — she was in a Hunter's hideaway she realized. It was hard to remember which one though, her head ached and when she lifted a hand she felt tight bandaging. Gauze padding and wound tape covered parts of her face as well.

    Panicking slightly she reached out for the comfort of the Crystal. It answered her but there was a nanopause before she felt its presence. Pushing a little harder, she reached for the Astrals and she saw echoes of light. No Astral inhabited Eos in physical form and the Crystal was shrouded in a darkness that delayed its power. The delay in response wasn’t enough to cripple someone relying on Crystal magic but she felt it keenly. Even paler echoes of light answered her when she reached for the Messengers. Everything felt muted and she knew it wasn't her ability but something beyond her. No one from her friendships with a number of the twenty-four Messengers was answering her calls and that had her feeling more alone than the empty hideaway.

     Focus. She had to focus, feed herself so she had the strength to find out where in Eos she was. Eating tiny bites of food slowly — her stomach had shrunk while she slept — she flipped through the log book. The last entry was...she didn't actually know how long ago but it was in May 755 with a simple note, 'Secured package. Schedules assigned. May the Six save us.' She frowned and continued eating in small bites as she found her Glaive base layers in a duffle bag under the bed. Dark greys and greens, as she preferred, cargo pants and boots that fit her perfectly though she couldn't quite remember actually buying them. Her phone said "no service" but her small hip pack was there. Dressing had her feeling more normal but there was Gentiana's words and cloudy blank spots in her memory. Checking her armory she had her spear, daggers, and other weapons coming to her hands as she reached for them in crystal light. Even the items she left there were in and out of her hands with flashes of Crystal-called light. Now that it felt like she had some more bone in her legs, she dug through drawers and found a map. It looked like she was in southern Duscae where it bordered with Cleigne. It was going to be a long trip, especially with twilight closing in, to Insomnia but something told her she needed to report to the Crown City. Knowing Regis, if he knew she was missing -- truly missing, not scouting all of the continent -- he would spend resources to find her. He still treated her more like a favorite cousin rather than a sworn soldier.

     Unfortunately, she only made it a very slow mile down the road when she was ambushed by daemons. Daemons during twilight. What was Lunafreya doing, she wondered as her weapons sang against corrupted flesh. In the thick of fighting she didn't see the truck pull up but noticed three other Kingsglaive burst forth welding steel and magic. The fight ended quickly with their assistance and one turned on her, face surprised.

     "Renée? By the Six, girl, I haven't seen you since the Prince's birthday!" The heavy set man with Galahdan braids declared as he clapped her shoulder. "Where have you been?"

     "I don't know." She hadn't dismissed her daggers. He wasn't familiar despite his age and the younger Glaives with him could have been recruited since the last time she was in the Crown City. He looked at her face and the still healing injuries on her arms.

     "Whatever is going on, we'll figure it out in Lestallum. Come on."

     Libertus talked to her throughout the ride, clearly happy to be reunited with her. She didn't quite agree looking at the landscape. Cars laid abandoned on the side of the road, small homesteads she used to stay overnight listening to what the people heard and saw sat dark and quiet. Once again she wondered what Lunafreya was doing to let the world go so dark. Cold horror gripped her heart. Was Lunafreya so sick that she wasn't able to heal anymore? She needed to find someone she remembered and get answers from them. She needed to fight, to drive back the darkness consuming her world.

     Libertus swore heartily and Renée looked up to only want to look down, away. Half a mile out Lestallum was a beacon of light with derailed trains acting as a demilitarized zone. From the shadows came daemons, oozing and sickly. Her gorge rose and daggers came to her hands. She blinked out of the truck, light of warping leaving tendrils and after images behind as daemon after daemon fell to her blades. Libertus swore behind her, closer than she expected which meant he hadn't been lying about being sworn to the King. The other two were behind him, their hesitation showing their youth. Without urging she cleared a path for the truck to follow.

     The Coernix station was a gutted corpse filled with daemons. Magic, pure and cleansing as it sung through her veins, manifested in fire as she scoured the area clean. It felt like she hadn't gone through repeated stases just a couple hours ago. Whatever healing Gentiana used left her with utterly restored magic.

     "I'll be damned," she heard Libertus swear as the other two Kingsglaive, Elea and Miles gasped. Looking up from the pile of salvage she was scavenging, she saw a tall figure fighting alone in front of the wall blocking what used to be the entrance to Lestallum. She knew the blade and the body welding it. She knew him.

     “Cor," she breathed before one of her daggers flashed foward, sweeping her along in a warp strike to the daemon reaching out for his back. It fell gurgling and she let a Cure spell loose between them just to be sure he hadn't been struck while he fought alone.

     Spinning in time, they carved a large circle of space for Libertus and the others to join them. "All together," Cor commanded. "Wipe them out."

     "Sir!" Libertus and Renée answered in unison, the younger Glaives echoing right after. Fighting was fierce but in time, coupled with those on the wall getting spotlights working, they managed to defeat all the daemons. She heard rather than saw Cor straighten and sheathe Kotetsu. It was slower than she preferred or was used to.

     "Move. We need to get inside." She was the first to dismiss her weapons and trot after him to a small portal. Voices behind it shouted orders to open the gate and prepare the truck gate. As the gate worked to rise Cor eyed her, ice-blue eyes scrutinizing her, lingering on her face. She frowned and prioritized finding a mirror after reporting in. "It's good to know you can still fight. Our base of operations is this way."

     She followed him inside the city, now a fortress against the darkness. Hunters manned the walls, cleaned weapons, caught cat naps in scaffolding. A few that saw and recognized her called out greetings and she returned them, smiling because these faces were more familiar than the Kingsglaive she saw staring at Cor. He gestured ahead and she jogged up the steps to see Monica poring over maps and missives. She looked up as she approached and gasped.

     "Renée? You're alive?"

     "I hope so. Was I decla—oof!" The weight that plowed into her side held her tightly as it shook in tears that dampened her skin. Turning enough in the death grip to see her attacker she returned the embrace. Never did Renée think she would be grateful to see tears from her. "Iris? Iris, why are you crying?"

     The girl pulled back and slapped the tears away like they surprised her. "I'm so happy. Jared said you were probably dead and considering everything I'm just so happy to see you."

     Most of what Iris said made no sense but she couldn't let it show, not with Iris smiling through her tears and clinging to her. She grew up so much since the last time she saw her. "I am too. It has been too long. Let me report to Monica so I can get on the duty roster and we'll chat after, okay?"

     Iris nodded. "I'll be by my shop. Just come by whenever!"

     When she bounced off Renée turned to Monica. She too had tears in her eyes. Unable to hide the brittle fear growing in her own eyes Renée smiled wryly and hoped the two expressions would mesh. "Please do not let me be the one person to bring Scout Elshett to tears. I'll be more terrifying than the Marshal."

     Her words had the desired effect and Monica huffed a laugh. "We can't have that. It's good to have you back, Renée."

     "It's good to be back," she lied.

 

     "Something's wrong," Libertus said as he came up beside Cor watching her talking to Monica, taking back slaps and the occasional bear hug from passing hunters. Her movement and behavior were normal except for minute hesitations that betrayed her state, whatever it actually was.

     Cor grunted. "You mean beyond her face? Or did you mean her coming back from the dead right after I called off searching for Noctis?"

     Libertus grimaced and Cor felt slightly bad for the new head of the Kingsglaive. Both of those statements were unfair considering most of the Kingsglaive were lying dead scattered over Insomnia and Cavaugh like some macabre failed ritual. Everyone, including Regis, thought Renée was as dead as Crowe when they found the latter's body. They were supposed to meet and finish the mission since Renée had firsthand knowledge of Tenebrae but Crowe never made it far beyond the Crown City. Considering the events afterwards, Renée's fate was assumed the worst.

     "Worse." Libertus shifted like he was ready for a fight. "Something is wrong with her memory. She doesn't recognize me."

     Cor rounded on Libertus and led him by the elbow to an alley barely short of manhandling. "Say that again."

     He sighed and explained how they found her on the side of the road fighting daemons. "She doesn't recognize me. Miles and Elea, I get. She's not been to the Crown City since the Prince's birthday last year. New recruits don't even know she exists until they run into her on patrol. She recognized you, funny that."

     Cor reached for the bridge of his nose. First declared dead. Now she was back and anyone she might remember was still dead. If the world as it was wasn't enough of a shock learning she outlived people she trained and befriended would be even worse. If she bolted like a decade ago they really would lose her. That was a possibility he refused to consider for both personal and professional reasons.

     "I'll talk to her. It will be easier that way. Pass word that she reports to me if she has questions about our situation."

     "Sir!"

     Libertus saluted before trotting out of the alley. Alone Cor leaned against the wall, hands finding his face and scrubbing. Renée was alive. Months of looking for her, for the smallest sign of her trail and she appears on the side of the road with her face looking like she tried to fight the entire Niflheim military with her face. He couldn't recall any other major injuries on her and she seemed of sound mind since her casting was as Crystal sharp as always. When she warped into the fight at the wall he didn't even turn, body and senses recognizing her distinctive signature and falling into battle patterns long ago practiced. It felt right having her at his back in a fight and he didn't question it until she was facing him and the healing gashes and slash on her face had him pausing. Her eyes were still green like Duscae's thickest forests and her mouth and chin set determined in her face like the world hadn't changed. She was still Renée, memories or lack thereof. Loosing a small groan he straightened and went to catch a woman who could vanish faster than a chocobo and hide her tracks three times as well.

    She wasn’t at Monica’s table. He frowned and found she wasn’t anywhere in the square. Strangely enough Iris’ shop — the one she opened not long after he told her she wasn’t going on the duty roster — was closed though it was her busiest hours. Asking Monica had the woman crossing her arms in a way that hinted she was a heartbeat from calling her own blades.

    “Renée is getting a hot meal and some sleep. You can talk to her after she’s had a shower and some rest. Understood, Marshal?” She smiled and he could only nod. Any more and she would fight him.

    “Thank you, Monica. Where is she bunking?”

    “Glaive barracks. She turned down the officer building; said she never slept well inside buildings.”

    She wasn’t wrong; Renée, to his knowledge, never even had an apartment in Insomnia when she lived there, just a tent in the Glaive training area and a room in the Citadel virtually unused for over a decade. It also meant she wasn't going to be in easy reach to catch and question. Cor let his perpetual frown deepen before nodding. “Is she going onto the duty roster?”

    “Signed up for three missions already and she put her off-days as open to cover wall watches. That was after arguing her down.” Monica frowned, catching onto his train of questions. “Marshal, is there something wrong with Renée?”

     Being honest would do them all good. What would be even better was if he had taken her wrist the moment they entered Lestallum and dragged her somewhere where he could get answers. Her coming back from the dead shook him more than he wanted to admit, even in the safety of his own mind.

     “I don’t know. But something is off. Keep an eye on her, if you would Monica.”

    She nodded. “Yes, sir. We cannot lose anyone else, Renée especially.”

    “I’m glad you understand. I’ll talk to her later.”

    “Sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

    Trying to catch Renée long enough to speak to her privately was near impossible, Cor realized within twelve hours of her return. It seemed like every non-civillian knew her and wanted her attention. And despite the deep circles wedged between her eyes and that lurid gash — he hated those wounds covering the smattering of freckles across her nose because it represented every soul cut down because of the Empire — she welcomed them all with bright eyes and smile that seemed a little too brittle compared to her smiles in his memory. Even at training, she often had the practuar as her sparring buddy since any Kingsglaive capable of facing her was either training others or busy whispering gossip about her with others. If Cor was harsher with those Glaives and Monica sent them on perpetual supply grunt runs, no one was brave enough to comment. Iris told him she was eating well, a little more than the usual caloric needs of Crystal-sworn but not out of the ordinary for one healing. Considering who her brother was, she would be able to recognize that easily.

     "The only thing is she can't eat much in one sitting. She usually gets the day's stew in a thermos and refills it at meal times. Are you sure you don't want to buy anything, Marshal? I have a nice button up in your size, not easy to find."

     Renée was a veteran Kingsglaive, first to take the oath, he had to remind himself daily. She didn't need him checking on her like Noctis and his boys had. She would be fine, he kept telling himself as he handed over the gil for the shirt.

 

     Renée was utterly exhausted and if she had the energy, she would admit to being perfectly content with that. The exhaustion meant she didn't have time for the panic and dread, so viscous and clinging to her like thick fog, to take over her mind like the Scourge swallowing Eos. She was a scout, she watched and waited and watched some more. That was why the dread was simple to recognize. She hated the sky, dim and murky like poisoned water supplies, with the sun pale and as bloated as a dead fish in said water. At night she could barely see the stars, even from the top of the power plant where all of Lestallum's light was pointed downward. Only a few of the brightest broke through the Scourge's veil around Eos. That inky darkness meant she couldn't wander, explore. She was trapped in a city she loved as long as she could leave at any time. Even as a child she could roam until her feet gave out and then she still had her sloop and whatever power she could get out of the wind or one of her transient friends — Messengers curious about her existence, she learned when she was eighteen from the High Messenger herself. Even during her service, she traversed the continent regularly, more than any other Glaive.

     Keeping busy combated the feeling of claustrophobia and its resulting panic. Even before she could leave for her first mission she had to clear the power plant of some daemons and help repair the tram line. Then it was cache defense and extractions, running supplies and rewiring and routing Lestallum's electricity network since she could take potential electrocution better than a plant worker and even in homes lights had to be a specific wattage to keep daemons from finding a shadow to pass through. She took a hunter's watch and met Aranea Highwind who was as formidable as every rumor made her. She was also a soldier,  if one of fortune rather than oath, and shared a flask as they waited in line for breakfast. The sense of camaraderie was something she missed since she didn’t know any of the Glaives.

     "You're different from the other Glaives," she commented as they shuffled forward, still moderately spattered with nidus gore and given a wide berth.

     "Oh? Yeah?" Renée took another swig of Aranea's flask, letting it burn the taste of scorched daemon out of her mouth. The mercenary reached for the flask and took her own swig, teeth baring at the bite.

     "Yeah. You fighting makes me think of Specs, in the Prince's group. But you got that stillness Monica and Marshal Surly have. Shit, that burns."

     "I would hope so," she answered as she got a tray and forgoing a mug, filled a tall glass with coffee, sugar, and cream in equal parts. She promised to help Iris mend clothing today so she could work on the ’surprise’ she wanted to make for Renée. "I've been Glaive since I was fifteen. And I was Ignis' initial instructor for his first couple years of combat training. His instructor after I left the City was hired on my endorsement."

     "Waitasec. You taught Specs. Long, blond, and razor sharp? How old are you?"

     Renée laughed and thanked the staffer that refilled the buffet slot with a basin of fresh biscuits. She didn't know because she didn't know what the date was. Just the day: Thursday. "I met Noctis when he was five. All these years and he's still a marshmallow dipped in adamantite dust."

     She blinked down at the extra tomatoes she unintentionally spooned on her plate. He used to give her his tomatoes because he knew she would enjoy them. The same with seaweed and fish. Every time he needed a fish identified he would find her, even interrupting her own training sessions with members of the Crownsguard to get them. “ _She’s from_ Altissia _, she_ knows _fish_ ,” was his logic any time someone questioned him, so firmly adamant that no one wanted to quash that rare streak of fierceness and she had done a lot of fishing for her father’s restaurant and afterwards. She never had the heart to tell him Accordans also ate rabbit, goat, and poultry on top of fish. It got so bad that Clarus made her schoolwork all correspondence classes so she could keep Noct company until his Hand and Shield were old enough to chase after him. Until then they were content to sit side-by-side, her working through coursework faster now that she wasn't hampered by class pacing and he going through books and videos about fish when not being tutored. She would leave books for him in some of her intel drops since Clarus or Cor were the ones to parcel out her reports to the necessary people.

     "You miss him." Aranea said her knee knocking against Renée's under the table they ate at.

     "Miss all of them. Half-raised a good chunk of them since I was the perfect age to be a babysitter. Hell, I even miss the twitchy kid, Prompto. He was growing into his skin last time I saw him."

     Aranea nodded, chewing. "Grew into it as much as he can right now. Got eyes for detail as good as—shit." At Renée's frown she waved her off. "Don't worry about it. They're good the last time I saw them. Grew up a lot in the time I've known them. Little dented, but who isn't?" Renée nodded agreement and they both dug into their meals.

    Despite the claustrophobia and so many people crammed into an already filled city, Lestallum was still a fast-moving city, if quieter. She missed the corner musicians and food stall barkers but they now worked towards keeping the city together while the women worked shift-and-a-half and doubles to ensure the besieged city had perpetual light and electricity. Because of the undercurrent of urgency Renée took to bothering those in the square for extra work between missions and watches. Cid had her cataloging all upgrade components from what hunters brought in. The arms merchants grilled her about their newest weapons wanting feedback on development and efficacy. Iris had her washing and mending clothes for her clothing shop or under strict orders to nap on the Fat Chocobo cushion she made. Renée was impressed she managed to make the massive cushion so quickly; it appeared within days from lurid yellow blankets and stuffed with cloth scraps large and malleable enough for it to be a seat or pallet.

    It was during one of her 'naps' — reading over some reports for Monica and marking the information she needed to take note of with an orange highlighter — when a message from Libertus came in that a truck with Hunters and their cargo were pursued by daemons was incoming. The papers scattered as she scrambled for the wall. Ascending the scaffolding she ran along the rooftops, feet sure along the narrow walls and flying between buildings, childhood in Altissia coming back as muscle memory set in. When she ran out of buildings, the kukri she kept against the small of her back whipped forward, crystal scattering as she warped her full range, rolling and running to meet the truck. She saw them coming and slid to a halt.

    “Don’t just stand there, help me!” the Hunter yelled as he drove by, one of the tires flat and flapping as the wheel spun. Renée simply smiled and let Thundaga flow through her body, the charge originating from the point between her shoulder blades and racing for freedom at the tips of her fingers. The pursuing daemons’ roars were silenced as she mowed through the main column. Those that were left hesitated and Renée drew her katana. She didn’t prefer the blade but she needed the sweeping reach to cut down the remaining near to her. She felt Miles throw up a barrier on the truck as Tabul and Yura joined her in clearing out the remnant left.

    Spinning, she stalked up to the truck as the Hunters worked on changing the tire so they could limp into Lestallum proper. With the supposed sarcophagus under a tarp in the truck’s bed it was the only option.

    “Tabul, Yura. Help Miles build a barrier around the truck. We’re going to be here for a bit and the sun’s setting.” Their answering ‘Sir!’ was as crisp as the sounds of crystal crackling to layer and weave a large enough barrier to withstand potential attacks. Turning she reached for what was under the tarp, not quite believing someone found a Royal Sarcophagus, let alone disinterring it and hauling it all the way back to town. When her fingers brushed the stone underneath, her breath caught as she felt like she was suddenly thrown into a lake full of liquid crystal. A song with a familiar refrain drifted through her mind as gauntleted hands reached for her and she had to rip her hand away before tears welled up. “This _is_ a Royal Sarcophagi.”

    He nodded, unaware of her moment of _no longer being in the world_. “Tomb of the Oracle. Found it not long after we got electricity in our neck of the woods. We knew we wouldn’t survive if we stayed the night there.”

    Renée swore briefly as she dialed Monica on her phone. Now working thanks to Iris, it rang once before she heard Monica pick up. “Renée?”

    “We need a secure location for some precious cargo. The truck is carrying the Sarcophagus of the Oracle.”

    It was satisfying to hear Monica swear briefly but viciously. “I’ll have an answer for you by the time you get back.”

    “Hurry then, we finally got the jack up enough to change tires. Sarcophagi are heavy.” She finished saying to a dead line. It had a small smile playing on her lips as she helped change the tire.

    The sarcophagus was to be stored in the Leville’s basement, brought in at night during the curfew through a service lift that could be powered by crank to keep electricity drain low. No one but alley cats watched Renée, Dave, and Dustin haul the sarcophagus through the streets on a cart, not even Leville staff for plausible deniability that Lucian royals now slept under their hotel. The hunters insisted that she should rest but she had to go down there, make sure that it was laid to rest safely. This was the King who forged Lunafreya’s trident. She would ensure its safety as if it were Lunafreya herself. Damn girl still hadn't shown up and it worried her. It wasn’t as easy as reaching for Gentiana or the pups to know how Lunafreya was, with her connection to the Messengers severed.

    “Come upstairs, get a drink before you go,” Dave insisted, Dustin nodding once the sarcophagus was placed. She frowned, unwilling to leave it, wanting to sit against it and listen to the song it sung into her mind. She hadn’t sung it in decades and wanted to be comforted by the song and the memories associated with it. She could spend days sitting in the darkness as long as she touched the sarcophagus. But bone weary and unable to argue, she nodded and they led her upstairs and onto a balcony where a bottle of Lucian brandy sat on a wrought iron table. Just as she sipped her glass, a voice rumbled in her head like the the herald of a good storm.

    " _Sword of Lucis, you have liberated my soul._ ” She startled, brandy sloshing over her hands, and looked out towards the street where she saw the Oracle standing like the Old Wall in the street. Looking back, Dustin and Dave were staring at her, not the king in front of her. “ _While I cannot lift the cross that you bear, I can offer you my protection and help shoulder that burden._ ” From his hand came a light that seared a sigil into the inside of her left wrist. With the sigil came understanding of how the Oracle’s healing magic worked and the large amount of it available as there was no one drawing on it. As long as she and others Crystal-sworn wore the sigil, they could reach into that well and draw succor from it like water in a desert oasis.

    No one was drawing on the Oracle’s magic.

    Her glass slipped from nerveless fingers and rolled off the balcony to shatter on the ground with scattering crystal from her warping off towards the square, Dustin and Dave shouting after her.

    No one was drawing on the Oracle’s magic.

    She needed to know why.


	3. Chapter 3

   “Tell me why we’re losing sunlight.”

   Everyone in the square within earshot froze and Monica looked at Renée’s hands on the table, faintly trembling. She raised her head slowly and Renée continued, not wasting this moment to add to her demand.

   “No one talks about Lunafreya. At all. Is the Oracle that ill that no one speaks of her? Where is Luna, Monica?”

   Silence answered. No one moved and she felt all eyes on her. She could wait for an answer. She needed an answer than the one that her mind formed each day she took missions and watched already dwindling sunlight fade by the day. Her answer wasn’t from any voice she wanted.

   "Where have you been? The Oracle died during the ritual to commune with the Hydraean. First King Regis in the Niflheim coup, next Lady Lunafreya, and now the Prince — sorry, new King — is missing.” Vyv said from his desk, still fanning his face this late at night.

   Iris’ gasp was the only thing Renée heard before the sound of rushing water filled her ears. Regis, her king’s father, his tired, kind smile and equally kind hands wiped from the world? Lunafreya, so strong and smart, raised climbing Tenebrae’s cliffs and trees, gone. Her mind grasped for shards of hope and when they cut her, she remembered the sound of gunfire, Boco’s scream as a bullet exploded against her side, fists and blades. The mission. Lunafreya’s tiara.  _ Crowe _ .

   "Crowe? Where is she? How is she not holding Lestallum's wall? And Nyx?” How did she forget about them, not ask the moment she arrived? Both of them should have ambushed her the moment she entered the city. Libertus would know but he was always on the move, even more than her and he never stayed near her when it was just the two of them. Libertus. She forgot who he was. Her head hurt. Still memories flowed and with it, names. Faces. People she hadn’t seen since she arrived weeks ago. “Is this why Libertus won’t talk to me? Where is Pelna? Katrice? Illyana? Luche? Tredd and his boyband?”

   She continued to list names, looking at Monica, then Dustin who came running in after her for an answer. At some point, she didn’t know, listing all the Kingsglaive she knew, they couldn’t look her in the eye. Her knees shook and she blinked back the tears in her eyes. Memories like broken glass cut away her control as easy as a coeurl hamstringing its prey.

   “Then the Crownsguard. The Council as well?” She knew she wouldn’t see old man Clarus if Regis was dead but someone other than Cor had to have survived from Regis’ innermost circle. She'd take Ignis' Astrals-damned uncle for Bahamut's sake.

   The only answer was Iris’ quiet sobbing.

   Her knees gave out as the hope she reached for left nothing but bleeding wounds in its wake. She didn’t feel Monica and Dustin catch her. Her mind was on the flashes of friends and allies’ faces, some she grew up alongside, others she trained because of her seniority as one of the first Kingsglaive and the only surviving one from the original vanguard. Even Titus had less seniority than her. All dead. Nausea rose as she realized she was surrounded by nothing but corpses. Dead so long, they were all in various states of decomposition, pressing against her sides, trying to take her so she could join them. Strangely as she felt so consumed, she remembered Gentiana’s icy touch and words like a clarion call.

_ Awaken, vassal. We need witness for the time to come. _

   “This is what you wanted me to witness?” She demanded the sky, searing hot anger burning away the vision to call upon the High Messenger. If one of the  _ Lucii _ could deign to appear before her, so could Gentiana. “You wish me witness to this slaughter and darkness? This cannot be the Chosen King’s victory. I swore to uphold the Light! What do you want of me?  _ Why won’t you answer me? Why won’t anyone— _ ”

   She inhaled to shout more and there was a sharp pinch in her neck. As dull pain spread, sleep and darkness took her, body going limp. Monica and Dustin lowered her carefully, Monica holding Renée close as Cid went to comfort the still sobbing Iris.

   “What the hell is going on?”

   Cor stood at the foot of the stairs leading from the power plant, Kotetsu in hand, a thumb’s width of blade visible despite the shadows. Dustin straightened and faced him as Dave, with needle in hand, backed away.

   “Renée learned of the Oracle and King’s fate. She broke down after learning the fate of Guard and Glaive. For her safety she was sedated.”

   “She needs rest,” Monica said from her place on the ground, still holding Renée whose head was protectively tucked under her chin.

   Cor approached slowly and gently knelt in front of Monica. She held even tighter to Renée as he felt her pulse on a limp wrist. She was sleeping, deeply, pulse thudding slowly but strong.

   “I’ll take her. She can sleep it off in my room.”

   Monica’s eyes were judging, fingers stroking the loose strands of Renée’s hair back into her ponytail. Somehow he missed Monica becoming possessive of her, much like how she was about Noctis’ Guard. She was collecting cats again, just in different bodies. They were still difficult, but anything she bonded to tended that way. “She needs the truth. She deserves it.”

   “I swear to you, Monica, I will tell her everything. But I can’t do it where everyone can see and hear. You understand this.”

   She grimaced and nodded, hesitant to release Renée as Cor reached to gather her into his arms. He stood, her weight easily cradled in his arms, her face pressed to his jacket so he could hear her steady breathing. Monica stood after and tucked Renée’s arms into the fold of her body so they didn’t hang freely. One hand curled around his jacket lapel, the bones of her knuckles like daggers between his ribs. Nodding to Monica and Dustin, he took her away.

   The door to his flat opened under his heel, unlocked because there was nothing to lock in or out. Renée slept on as he laid her gently on the long single-and-a-half bed, as he loosened the hair tie that held up her ponytail. He eased off her boots, well-worn and loved things by the softness of the leather, and set them by his own boots toed off in habit of coming home. Her knee guard and thigh pack came off and hung off the back of his chair so he could stand and shrug off his jacket and hang it.

   He sat down and suddenly understood how Regis’ advanced aging affected him. He felt older than his forty-six years, older by decades simply watching her sleep. Renée looked so small and young in his bed, sleeping soundly. On the inside of her left wrist sat a sigil that he recognized as Lucian. Specifically one of the Lucii. Now they decided to help, he thought bitterly. He reached for the blankets, left folded back at the foot of the bed, and pulled them up around her shoulders so she didn't get cold. Unable to do anything else until she woke, he reached for a book to read.

 

    Consciousness came slowly and with it, the knowledge that she wasn't in the dingy square where she passed out in. A bed — real, not a cot — with blankets, a pillow that did not smell like hers. She wasn't in the large tent that was where the Glaives in Lestallum camped either. The scent was vaguely familiar, like she hadn't smelled it in some time and forgot it. Steel, definitively, like someone who slept next to their weapon but there was also a masculine undertone amidst other scents. It was a puzzle that she couldn't quite figure out and a thread of anxiety appeared, hinting that the memory was lost when she had been shot and beaten. She shoved the cloying fingers of anxiety away from her throat and focused on waking.

Annoyingly enough her body didn't wake as fast as she liked. It could be because she was still healing from the assault that apparently happened months ago but the sluggishness in her muscles said someone drugged her. If they had tried a sleep spell she would probably still be screaming at the sky; rage had the ability to burn away magical effects. The floorboards creaked and she wondered if the person in the room with her was the one who put the needle — her neck now ached where it went in — to her. She let her head turn towards the sound and cracked open her eyes.

Cor sat nearby in a wooden chair, his ankles crossed idly and leaning back on two legs as he read the paperback in his hands. His katanas, Kotetsu and Kikuichimonji, leaned against the wall between the bed and a small worn side table. His jacket hung on the wall and his shirt hung off his frame, loose and rumpled. It was so oddly familiar, like she saw this often but in truth, she only saw this when he was waiting for her reports personally, barely thrice a year if she averaged it. Even then it was usually in public; a cafe or restaurant, occasionally a haven, not what she assumed was his room. Her assignments usually had her leaving everything in drops for other Glaive patrols to pick up later or meeting with a Glaive pulled from active duty due to a slow-healing injury. Yet, seeing him sitting leaning back in his chair reading whatever novel he picked up had her smiling because seeing him like this was familiar. So much in the world was unfamiliar and he wasn’t.

    He looked up from his book and their eyes met, ice blue and deep green and she met his gaze, silently daring him to comment on her watching him, her smile. Instead he tucked something into the book and set it on the side table. Leaning in to let his elbows rest on his knees, she noticed he had gained some new lines and it seemed wrong, Cor looking so tired. He was stern, had what Crowe called "resting bitch face," but never looked tired, beleaguered, not like this. Not even chasing down Noctis and his circle when he vanished in the bowels of the Citadel. His mouth parted, closed, and opened again.

    "You dyed your hair green."

    She laughed, the sound acting like fertilizer to the growing headache in her skull. Gods, her head ached. "I lose my shit in the square, get knocked out, and the first thing you want to comment on is the color of my hair? Be reasonable, Marshal. What is the date."

    He hesitated. That infuriated her. It had her forcing noodle-limp muscles to push her upright so she was taller than him for a scant moment before he rose to meet her eyes. He told her the date and the world shifted again.

    Months. She'd been unconscious for actual, literal months. As she slept the world as she knew it ended and the scary stories her mother once told her on the darkest nights of the year were coming true. Those stories always had the hope of dawn, of Light returning to banish the night. It was why she swore to be Noctis’ Glaive but in this moment, she finally understood the terror of those stories.

    "Lunafreya is dead." Those words felt wrong in her mouth, bitter like daemon blood and just as poisonous. "How?"

    "The reports I have say that during the ritual to commune with the Hydraean she was stabbed. She had a preexisting condition that didn't allow her to survive the assault."

    Renée laughed mirthlessly. She knew the condition Cor mentioned, had seen it wrack Lunafreya's body a number of times, wiped black blood from her lips after a coughing fit, smeared it on her jeans heedless of Luna’s scolding. Her far-removed cousin had already been dying from healing others of the Starscourge. Gentiana stood in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes open, tears streaming down her face. She nodded, confirming Cor's words. The pain in Renée's chest was dull, persistent. Comforting compared to the greatsword trying to cleave its way out from her skull. Never again would she sing with Lunafreya in the language of the Six. Never again would they braid each others' hair. Pryna and Umbra must be...oh Six, Pryna and Umbra! Their grief must have been immense at her death if they even survived, their energies so entwined with hers after the years together.

    "And our kings? Regis is truly dead and Noctis is missing?" Gentiana nodded again, but gently to the side meaning Renée's young King was not as missing as the public believed. It had her turning back to Cor, his own eyes flicking between her and where Gentiana stood. Considering he hadn't drawn a blade, he could not see her. She felt rather than saw Gentiana's small smile of confirmation. "Cor. What happened?"

    His name had him focusing on her. His hands clenched and with a deep breath, one that she recognized from sparring on and off for years. How bad was it that he had to prepare as if he was about to throw himself into battle? He told her. Everything he knew, caveats throughout because even his information was second or even third hand but he told her who they were. She knew most of the names. Ignis. Weskham. Monica. Lunafreya. Most of them were still alive. So she wasn’t surrounded by as many corpses as she thought.

    "At this point, you've met all the Guard and Glaive left. Much like our Royal Line, we are a dying breed."

    Crowe with her bright eyes and fire so irrepressible that it gathered in her hands without a thought. Never again would she find comfort from seeing firestorm rage through Niff fleets. Nyx, who kept asking her to find and train a coeurl cub for him to play with. She never did find one, even through poachers and she had tried. Grumpy old Clarus who smacked her across the back of her head when she took it easy on Gladiolus and Iris in special training. He was so happy during Noctis’ twentieth birthday, tweaking her carefully styled hair before asking for a dance 'for old time’s sake’ like she was seventeen and going through dance lessons alongside Noctis and his circle. Faces kept flashing by, including King Regis whose smile was so heartbreakingly grateful as she offered her twin daggers in service of the Six's Chosen King because she knew and after all this time she never told him she saw the same vision as him. All dead. She was supposed to be with them, she realized as her healed gunshot wounds throbbed like phantom limbs. Those parting words from the Niflheim soldiers before she blacked out, blood pumping out of her body.

_ Your Captain thanks you for your service. _

    “—née!"

    She looked down to see Cor's large hands wrapped around hers, coaxing them to let go of the blanket she had in a death grip. Their hands were wet; she hadn't even realized she started crying. She held onto something that filled her mind before her coma. “Titus. He betrayed us."

    He shook his head, still saddened by that loss. “Libertus thinks it was because of kings continually pulling the Wall back and the treaty terms.”

   “Bastard,” she cursed. She remembered the smell of fire burning Tenebrae, the sounds of Queen Sylva dying on Glauca’s blade. Ravus and Lunafreya crying over their mother’s body as she cleared a path for Regis and Noctis, her young King’s Glaive first, Tenebraean second. Not like she was able to pull Ravus away in the first place. She felt her mother’s hands gripping her arms tightly since she couldn’t hug her when she put her necklace around her throat and threw her into the sea to save her life, her father's shouts as he fought off their attackers. The dreadful sound of magitek engines pervaded them all. Those tactile memories never left her, even in sleep, especially when those engines flew patrol overhead. Drove her to be the eyes and ears of her Kings in the world. “Angry about his home in Niff hands.  _ Hah _ ."

    She looked to Gentiana, who nodded again with a saddened smile like the irony was not lost on her. Nodding to herself, she looked Cor in the eye. "Noctis isn't missing."

    His lips quirked up and his fingers flexed over her hands. Her head was groggy enough that she thought he was grasping onto her hands. "You were told as such, I assume. Like when you vanished a decade ago when you were mourning the Infernian and Glacian long before we received that intel. Who tells you these things?"

    "Friends." She didn't need to know Gentiana's expression to keep this card of hers close to her chest. It was why she was an orphan, why Lunafreya had been a captive, after all. Blood ties to gods. "Noctis is safe. The Six have declared him Chosen. He will fulfill his destiny. We must endure, Guard and Glaive, for it's his people we serve until he returns. For hearth and home. Every fucking one of them.”

   Speaking those words, strangely heavy with prophecy opened something in her that had been bound shut from without. She heard Umbra’s triumphant bark as she recognized both Siren and Sylph’s songs wafting to her over some distance. They were coming but it was dark; constantly calling for her to find them, meet them, shine her lighthouse-like light so they knew where to turn. It had been a test and she passed it. She now had a calling and she would answer.

    If she wasn't so relieved hearing the whispering voices of her friends calling for her to find them she would have laughed at Cor's bewildered expression. It had him looking years younger and many degrees softer. Gentiana pressed a hand to her shoulder before vanishing, leaving them alone. He sat back and stared at his hands. Her hands twitched in aborted motion to take his hands in comfort. He had been plunged deep into this world just for being good with a blade. She wondered how many times he asked himself what had he gotten into, agreeing to follow Regis and Clarus into the larger world of gods, prophecy, and the consolidation of souls for a weapon to save the world.

    "What do we do when he returns?"

    Renée shrugged. After swearing her oath to Noctis, she didn’t have any long-reaching plans beyond serving him. She never saw the point of looking that far into the future when his life and the world's was on the line. And now, her skin itched like a new tattoo; Gentiana must have left her her sigil. "That's a dawn we cannot see. For now, we deal with each one we do have. Do you have any other questions?"

    He hesitated again, looking at his hands. This time, she waited patiently like she was waiting for him to finish reading her report summaries. When he had his thoughts together his hand lifted with his eyes to rest on her face. She shivered. His hand was so large against her face, the callouses from years of swordsmanship strangely comforting pressed to the healing gashes on her. She still didn't know if they were going to scar. Her face wasn’t the best sight even though she was still healing steadily. He held her face so long she thought she could feel them healing faster, cell by cell, encouraged by his presence.

    "What happened to you? When I got the call that Crowe was assassinated I knew you were either dead or next. I went looking for you but I couldn't find you." He sounded so soft, like the late nights after reports when there was nothing to do but have a beer and watch the night pass. They were never quite friends despite her being in the king's service for fifteen—now sixteen years, simply comrades, soldiers enjoying quiet moments. But the hand at her cheek faintly trembled and Renée swore to herself that the Immortal Marshal wouldn't have to live just for his duty. Especially since it seemed to be watching everyone he knew die. She knew and hated that feeling immensely.

    She had to take his hand from her face or she wouldn't be able to talk, there was too much unsaid in his hand and she needed focus to gather the shards of memory into a cohesive picture. She rested it on a blanketed ankle after she drew her legs up to rest her chin. That way she could take comfort but not be overwhelmed with the barrier between them. Taking a deep breath, she began.

    "I got orders to meet Crowe the day before I watched Niff fleets begin mobilizing near Lestallum. When Hunters began calling me to tell me the same thing all across the continent I knew the treaty signing was a trap. My mistake was catching a truck for the city to warn the King, though, knowing Regis, he saw this coming and made preparations."

    Cor nodded. "He got Noctis out of the city by having him and his Guard drive him to Galdin Quay for the wedding in Altissia. He made that part of the treaty. He was still looking out for me after all these years by assigning me to patrols outside the city. Along your closer routes, now that I think about it."

    "'Gods save the King because he won't save himself,'" she quoted, chuckling darkly because while it had been a joking phrase amongst Guard it held true. "In my haste, the truck was what got me in trouble. A sniper's round took out the tires, throwing Boco and I from the truck. Before I could summon a barrier, I was shot. Then the soldiers came."

    "Renée. You don't have to continue." His eyes darkened, probably imagining what happened. She rested a hand on the hand that became a closed fist and his fingers parted so she could wedge in her fingertips. It was not as bad as his mind whispered, the words visible in his eyes.

    "I do. I need to remember and facing it is the only way. They beat me with feet, fists, rifle butts. I think there was a knife or two. When they were done I was barely conscious and their parting words were, 'Your Captain thanks you for your service.' I know I was bleeding heavily with a few broken bones. I guess Boco went to the nearest outpost and raised hell because I woke up in a Hunter shelter the day Libertus found me.” She sighed, looking out past Cor’s shoulder to the window behind him. "I hope that dumb bird is okay."

    "I'm sure he's fine. Probably got back to Wiz's with all your gear and he's been charging interest on storing it." Cor's small wry smile had Renée laughing, this time in actual amusement. He had heard stories about her chocobo everyone knew she rode but never saw except for Wiz and his kids. There were rumors about its ancestry but no one could get straight answers out of the chocobo rancher or his children.

    "True. That just means I need to take more missions so I can pay off the debt growing. Shit, Meldacio needs power before Cauthess, their generators are older." She rose and Cor clapped hands on her waist and sat her on the bed. He didn't let go, leaning in with a heavy frown.

    "Renée. Can you please stay still for an hour. While you're conscious," he added as she frowned and opened her mouth to protest. "You have been through a lot. You're still healing from an assassination attempt. You are number one in completed and successful missions. You come to train every morning you’re not in recovery or on a mission. The entire square has you doing odd jobs for them. Please. For me, Renée.”

   His earnestness startled her. Even more, he used her name which was unusual. Amongst the Glaives, there was no ranking system so everyone called each other by their first names. The Crownsguard often called the Glaives by their title and surname. Clarus used to call her 'Suvien' in the most beleaguered tone even before Iris could walk. But now that the current Crown was Astrals-knows-where, she supposed such formalities — not that Cor often used them when he interacted with the Glaives, she remembered — were superfluous.

   Steel fingers like blades from two different hands rested on the back of her neck. From a long distance away, too far for them to touch at the moment, a harp string wrapped around her throat gentle as a lover’s caress as waterfalls crashed even further away. Her eyes closed and she wanted to flick ear fins in retaliation since slapping the Blademaster and Lady Asura's hands was a death wish. She wasn't a child anymore, to be watched so. She took a deep breath, held it for thirty seconds before releasing it. “I suppose.”

   Strong hands squeezed her waist before letting go, fingers trailing as if to catch her again if she did try to bolt. When she opened her eyes he seemed satisfied but wary. She swallowed thickly, remembering that others used to look at her with the exact same expression. They were all dead. She left them behind and they died. Her chin jutted to the book he had been reading.

   “Any chance I can get one if I’m to stay still?”

   “Only if you stay still.”

   Renée nodded and he tossed her another paperback. It was one she hadn’t read. Laying back on his pillow she read quietly. It was late but he wanted her to stay in one place since he couldn’t trust her to go back to barracks and sleep. Knowing her, she’d end up taking a watch on the walls and he wouldn’t risk that.

   It went well enough, the both of them reading in silence until pounding at his door had them both startling, daggers glowing with half-summoned spells in front of Renée and Kotetsu in Cor’s hands. No one burst through the door but the pounding was insistent. Setting aside his blade, Cor went to the door even as a voice shouted at him.

   “Marshal! I know she’s with you! Let me see her!”

   He looked at Renée who also dismissed her weapons and shrugged. Opening the door had him shoved out of the way by a tiny — smaller than Renée — figure still half dressed in power plant thermal suit. It shrieked and jumped full force into Renée’s open arms. Arms full of energetic body, Renée laughed in glee as she locked her legs around the person trying to punch her sides. That laugh was the only thing keeping him from growling and tearing the body off her.

   “You utter bastard! You know I had to hear you were here from Cidney?  _ Cidney _ , Renée!”

   “It’s so good to see you, Ry. I’ve been busy. Glaive business.” Over Ry’s shoulder she looked to Cor, eyes jerking to the woman trying to straddle and shake her at the same time.

   “She’s been providing your plant with meteor shards,” Cor added, feeling cold fury swirl in his chest. Whoever this Ry was, she ruined the few hours of peace he coaxed out. He wanted more time where Renée wasn’t risking herself like their quiet times together in what now felt like a past life. He hadn’t even had a chance to confirm his theories about the sigil on her skin.

   “Awesome, thanks!” Ry said half-dismissively as she wormed her way out of Renée’s grip. Once free, she grabbed Renée and lifted her in a fireman’s carry. Renée at least looked minutely chagrined. “Now, she’s going to provide me with her presence since she vanished for over six months! I’ll give her back before her next mission, Marshal.”

   “I am so sorry,” Renée mouthed through laughter before gesturing with grabbing hands at her boots. Ry caught the gesture and squatted to retrieve her boots and put them in her hands before she walked out of Cor’s apartment.

 

   Ry hauled Renée through the city, refusing to set her down or saying anything until they made it to Ry’s apartment. She tried a few times to coax a reaction out of Ry, but she was alarmingly silent. Lovingly called the "Lightbulb of Exeneris," Ry was bright and energetic and her behavior after leaving the officer's building was not normal. She stayed that way up the stairs to the third floor, as she opened her apartment, through turning on lights and setting Renée on the kitchen counter. From the new perspective, Renée saw Ry's clenched jaw and wobbly eyes over some impressive bags.

    "Ry?"

    Like she was a puppet with its strings cut, Ry slumped, arms going tight around Renée's waist as gigantoad tears poured from her eyes and onto Renée's flannel shirt where she buried her face.

    "Cidney said y-you came back from the dead," she hiccuped through sobs. When Renée tried to pry her face up, she buried deeper, heavy labor-strengthened muscles anchoring them together. "Did you really die? Like Lady Lunafreya? Is that why you weren't here when the Disc caught fire and the Niffs attacked Titan?"

    Renée’s head fell so she could kiss the top of Ry's short-cropped curls. Rocking slightly, she held her friend, one of the few civilian friends she had. In worrying about the world, she forgot there were others possibly missing and mourning her beyond the warriors.

    "I'm sorry," she murmured into her hair. The apology wasn't going to be enough and it wasn't like she could take Ry dancing to make it up to her. "I didn't die, but it wasn't for the Niffs lack of effort. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

    Ry shook her head, smearing tears into her flannel before looking up, grey-blue eyes red rimmed. "Please, don't. I'm just happy you're here and alive and I really missed you!"

    "Missed you too, starfly." Their foreheads leaned in and touched, both smiling. Then Renée yawned. Looking at her watch it said they were a few hours short of dawn. "Sleep?"

    "Hell yes. I bought a bigger bed right after you left the last time so we can snuggle."

    "That sounds amazing."

    After the night she had, tucking in with Ry was a welcome comfort. The exhausted engineer fell asleep quickly and Renée followed shortly but not before noting Ry's calloused hand tucked under her cheek was definitely different from Cor's. 


	4. Chapter 4

    Dawn came, sickly pale light filtering through Ry’s gigantic picture window that took up one wall of her apartment — the real reason why Ry lived in one of the older buildings, she bought it years before she and Renée met and let Renée fill the living room with cacti since she never had the time to keep anything else living. Renée blinked muzzily. There was a weight on her chest and it wasn’t Ry; by the sound of the toilet, she was in the restroom and the figure was hazy and pale like it wasn’t really there. Light shined through the red crystal horn and its tail swished excitedly.

_ <You’re awake! I can’t leave Noct for long but I thought you might need this for your trial,> _ Carbuncle chirped in her mind, opening his mouth and dropping a red gem, identical to his horn if it were double-sided. It rolled down her chest to rest against her necklace. It was small and fit easily in her hand. He yipped pleased and licked her nose, his tongue rough like a cat’s. It had her wincing and when her eyes opened, he was gone and Ry was stumbling out of the bathroom to bellyflop into bed. She eeled closer and wrapped her legs around Renée and covered her eyes with a hand.

    “Nope. We’re sleeping in. Monica said you have two rest days before your next mission. We are doing nothing today until we meet Iris for dinner.”

    She reached and let the crystal rest on top of her phone. Any plans for her to train or help out utterly ruined, Renée fell asleep to the sensation of Carbuncle’s sigil growing against her side. Two down, only twenty-two to go and she doubted all of them would be so simple.

     The next time she woke, she slipped out of Ry's octopus grip and padded into the kitchen. Her watch said it was late morning and her stomach said she was still burning a lot of energy healing. Kettle set for tea and instant oatmeal, she retrieved her phone — the only message was from Iris in emoji about how excited she was to have dinner tonight — and the crystal Carbuncle left her. It sparkled in the light like it wanted to play, just like Carbuncle's temperament. Turning it in her hand, she found a small hole bored into one of the points, to set it most likely. She wondered who she could go to to have it set. Most jewelers closed their businesses down to open space for more refugees. Iris was deft with crafting but her talents sat with fabric. Renée pursed her lips. She would have to go to Randolph and probably be berated within an inch of her life for not bringing him the bennu flight feathers he wanted from her last dealing with him. Near death and subsequent coma were not going to be good enough reasons for failing.

     "That's awfully pretty," Ry said, laying on her back. "It looks like a meteorshard but red."

     "It's one of Carbuncle’s rubies." She winced as Ry shrieked in surprise in her ear. Ry knew of Renée’s relationship with the messengers but Carbuncle was one of the rarely seen messengers. "He came and went this morning. He's keeping the King company.”

    “Oh.”

    “Yeah. I’m going to have to ask old Randolph to put it on a ring so it can go somewhere on me. I don’t know if the Astrals will share my throat and it needs to contact skin.” She knew that at least, knowledge flowing to her.

    Ry leaned into her. “Tomorrow.”

    “Yes, tomorrow. Today I’m all yours.”

    “Awesome! My boyfriend bought me a new box of pencils and I want to draw something other than my cacti."

    "Rewind. Your  _ boyfriend _ ?"

 

    As macabre as it was to say it, many of Renée’s friends and acquaintances were grateful for that terrible night where she learned the truth because whatever Cor discussed with her had her returning to her normal self. She was still in perpetual motion but she no longer paused at odd times or pushed herself so hard it worried others. The second day after that night she flirted her way into the radio system's control booth to have a shouting-level row with Libertus that all of Eos heard. It eventually died down and when she came out of the booth her eyes were red and she was sniffling but she shook her head and said, “I’m alright. Monica, Libertus wants you since he's on.”

    This time, people believed her without any doubt. Not long after the other Glaives referred to her as 'The First' in conversation and 'Scout' to her face, speaking about her in the same awed, hushed tones as 'Captain Ostium'. A betting pool grew between the Crownsguard on when the young Glaives would learn her other handle. Then a second for when she beat that awe out of them for all of the dead Glaives who hated being called by fanciful titles. Nyx had been the only one to embrace his and few knew it was with macabre irony. He was still missing, their reckless Hero.

    She championed seeking out the other tombs to secure the sarcophagi, leading a number of the missions to open the way. When she returned from rewiring Old Lestallum into the power grid, she caught Cid in her arms, spinning and holding him in a deep dip. Bringing him upright, she kissed him, leaving him breathless and reeling as she announced "There are chocobos in Old Lestallum! Not many, but they sleep there between messenger runs. Monica, I'm about to blow open your map."

    Refugees poured into Lestallum and Old Lestallum with similar stories: the Havens were losing their power, winking out one by one. Renée listened seriously to the de facto leaders of each refugee group, then spoke to children, letting them climb on her as they talked. Afterwards she usually went and hugged Iris tightly before sinking into her cushion and thinking. At first it was eerie, her staring into the middle distance but many got used to it because if touched, she would return with a slow blink. She wasn’t gone and it was a small comfort seeing her eyes focus on the present.

   "Trying to find some answers," she told Ry as the small engineer half-leaned, half-laid on Renée’s crossed legs one day, easily asking the questions no one wanted to. Ry was the one who knew how she worked, any of the regular Glaives who knew Renée's habits dead. Taking a brush Renée began untangling the mat of hair created wearing the thermal suit. "Without an Oracle to renew the spells, we don't have much to stave off the Scourge there."

    "Sounds like you need an apothecary," Dave said, approaching slowly with a wizened old woman.

    "Kimye?" Renée couldn't believe her eyes. She hadn’t seen the woman in over a year and didn’t expect to see her still alive.

    "Know who I am, you do. Know what I can do. Help buffer Light's bastion, I will."

    Renée warped from her seat and embraced the woman. "Thank you Kimye."

    She patted her back as she returned the embrace. "Do not. Oracle’s light, gone forever it is. Dark Havens are fate until the King wakes. My potions, stem the dark tide, they cannot."

    "But they'll help. Every haven we can hold gives refugees a chance to survive and get to an outpost. That matters," Renée said, the ruby-colored crystal bobbing from her left ear in agreement.

    "Good child. You shine bright as your cousin when skulking ceases." Kimye patted her cheek. "Open the shop, I will. See me before a mission."

    "I promise."

 

    Deep crimson embroidered with tiny blades in metallic threads caught her eyes as she looked through Iris' inventory. They twinkled teasingly in the low light as she lifted them. Hair ties, or strange bracelets, Renée thought and turned to Iris.

   “When did you get these?”

   She frowned at the pair of loops resting on Renée's fingers. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen them before. What are they?”

   Pulling them, they stretched faintly and glimmered in a way that reminded Renée of a familiar threat, never acted upon but a threat nonetheless. “Hair bands. How much?”

   Iris shook her head. “You can have them. You buy so much from me already.”

   Reaching into her pockets, she poured all the change she had in her pocket. One thousand gil. Worth it if these belonged to who she thought. “Keep the change, kiddo.”

   Once she was out of earshot of Iris’s yelling, she warped to a roof and unbound her hair and tied it back up into a ponytail with one of the bands, the other ending up around her wrist. It was enough. His silhouette formed, his hair unbound and floating in his own ghostly aura. The mask on his face hid his expression but she knew he was smiling, amused by his own cunning, proud she found the ties. Years of taking lessons from him left her without wonder, but wariness. Demanding and unyielding many called him, capricious and obsessive she knew from listening to him chatter on and on as she sparred with the spirits sworn to his service to learn his lessons. If anything knowing many of the creatures and people who made up legends taught her there was the legend and then the person behind it.

   Legends left much out.

   “Was meditating not enough? You had to come visit yourself?”

   He laughed. “So smart, little one. So smart and innocuous. The tiny thorn forged into a Glaive. You leave so many itching. Answer me a question: the boy. Is he here?”

   “Maybe.” She answered, sucking on her teeth. It was rude to a Lucian, perfect for her reluctance. He ignored it, used to her foreign attitudes. The double edged sword between them was they knew each other well enough posturing didn't work for very long.

   “Let me speak to him.”

   She nearly spat at his feet, rude even if they weren’t in Insomnia. Even before it fell into Niflheim control, Lestallum had its own culture separate from the Crown City. “No.”

   “Why not?!”

   She would not think about the man he wanted. Would not look towards his office where he was still working as night fell. Would not reach out and layer barrier after barrier around that office. Could not be willing to die on this Messenger's blade to protect him; she had her mission. She had to witness her King’s triumph. She could challenge him, for the first time in their acquaintance. She was good enough to take his other arm, shred the tokens of his own hair ties once she forced him to relinquish his sigil and would if she didn’t like his answer.

   “Why speak to him? What words could you have for him after all this time? He was in your sanctum, used your beloved blade before the altar to your throne and you did not seek him out? Have you lost your edge,  _ Blademaster _ ?”

   “His heart was closed to me! Now, with you shining so brightly, reaching out and digging us old fossils from the dirt, his heart opens. You, little thorn, are why I want to speak to him. He did not learn the lesson I wanted of him. Three decades later, I will have him learn it.”

_ Well shit _ , she swore in the safety of her mind. Gilgamesh wasn’t wrong and she didn’t have any true issue with his desire. Considering it hadn’t changed since she began her tutelage under him ten years ago, it would let him find some sort of rest. Sighing, she approached him, hands taking his ghostly hair, pale from millennia passing and braided the locks framing his mask. She tied them off with her own hair ties, a trade.

   “I would need a token to channel you.” She was not an Oracle, just a Glaive. Blades didn’t wield themselves, let alone other weapons.

   He laughed and tweaked her nose. “Little thorn, I will give you more than a paltry token. I give you my sigil, so your blades will always be sharp through your trials,” his arm found her side and she felt minuscule blades cut into her, tracing lines. “And for us to communicate, this.”

   He bent at the hip, leaning over her until his mask was inches from her face. It lifted from his face easily and before another formed, she saw twinkling eyes and scarring not dissimilar to her own. She caught one of his braids and tugged. He was strong enough to not budge but he did, head jerking hard.

   “I will not let you kill him.”

   “Oh, little thorn. A few more centuries and perhaps you’ll be sharp enough to know my mind. I don’t want to kill him, but teach him a lesson he is very late in learning.”

   “As you said. But I know your lessons.”

   He laughed again. “You do! You certainly do. We have a deal?”

   “We do.”

   “Excellent!” A delicate, but long, so long, katana formed in his hand. “Now, to  _ our _ lessons."

 

   She knew everyone of note entering Lestallum, it seemed. Cor frowned watching from his office as she sparred with Iris during their lunch break. The soft impacts of open hands against each other was the rhythm by which they conversed. Rumor had it Gladiolus was inbound and Renée wanted to go against him to see how Gilgamesh's chosen Shield stood up — how she knew that, he couldn't guess. Monica was the only one who had a hint of what happened and that was more along the lines of him having to pull back from operations to lend a hand to the King's Shield. At least Renée’s happiness over seeing Gladio wasn't a surprise unlike her newfound physicality with her friends. She was a nuzzling chocobo, hip-checking Aranea to say hello, fingers entangled in Ry or Iris' hair when she had a free moment, hooking her chin over Cid's shoulder to watch him while he worked, leaning her full weight into Libertus' side when he was in town, pulling a second chair up to Monica or Jeanne's desks and napping. Some nights he heard her laughing as she played hacky sack with the other Glaives, a fun game that was easily improving their reflexes. Coupled with the order that all crystal skills were banned, it became regular to see a Glaive with one, juggling it. Iris couldn't make them fast enough and with rationing, the bags were filled with pebbles, not beans. No one seemed to find this physicality surprising, which frustrated Cor more. If this Renée was the norm, who was the woman he spent time with?

    The two women broke apart, each going for their towels and water. Iris, no longer speaking over their sparring, said something that she shook her head to. Shrugging, Iris headed towards the officer's building and Renée to the tent.

    It was the best chance he'd get to talk to her alone. Stacking the reports he was looking at — annotated with her half-cursive scribble — he let his long legs get him down to the Glaive tent in moments. He heard shuffling, and assuming she was changing waited until the noise quieted. There was the groan of a cot and he swept open the flap.

    All he saw was chocobo-themed boxer briefs and bare legs bent to fit the width of the cot. Her hips walked her further forward by centimeters, legs moving in counterbalance as she was folded in half reaching for something under the cot. She wore nothing but a sports bra by the band, showing off the pale blue lines swirling up her spine to stop just above her underwear's waistline. Her feet were etched with geometric lines, finely bordered mosaics growing with size and fading before they touched her knees. She had gotten more work done since that time he met her at the Vesperpool; he arrived two days early and caught her swimming off one of the havens, naked as the day she was born. Whoever she saw for her tattoos were a master of their craft and knew how to connect the ink to her magic. The only tattoo that couldn't vanish or change color at will was the spiral of sylleblossoms that encircled her right wrist one and a half times before Leviathan consumed it. He wondered if she saw that as foreshadowing now.

    A triumphant 'a-ha!' had him focusing back on the woman instead of her tattoos as she curved her spine to eel her way back out from under the cot. In her hand as she pushed herself upright one-handed was a hacky sack. Victory had her eyes burning bright and a chuckle choked him. At that noise she whipped her head around, hair unbound after sparring, it was a curtain of flame, of fast moving lava, utter destruction disguised in beauty. Seeing him she smiled lopsidedly and bounced the hacky sack in her hand.

    "Anything I can help you with, Marshal?" she asked, tossing it at him with a flick of her wrist.

    He caught it — the force had his hand stinging — and threw it back, purposely curving the throw so it would veer away from her. Her arm, the one laced in flowers flicked out and caught it without her gaze breaking from his. Laughter bubbled in his gut along with dangerous yearning. Dangerous because of the time they lived in, not the woman. She was dangerous like an Messenger and he was used to dealing with their kind. "Not at this time. As you were Glaive," he added as he spun on a heel and left. He got as far as Iris' booth before covering his mouth as laughter split his face. Still laughing he went back to his office. He’d talk to her later, once his abs weren’t clenching with the effort of full belly laughter.

   "Huh," Jeanne said, loud enough for Monica to hear. "Didn't know Immortal Cor Leonis could laugh."

    Smiling because she could only imagine the exchange that triggered the laughter, Monica answered, thinking about another betting pool to start. "Staring is rude." 


	5. Interlude: Cor

    Until she appeared — literally, magically appeared — by his side, returned from the dead, Cor hadn't seen Renée since the gala held in honor of Noctis' 20th birthday. For a moment, before she used his back to brace herself, he had thought she was some avenging ghost furious about being murdered. Of everyone dead he felt she would be one of the more stubborn souls to fight passing through the Lady's Gate. Would gather enough of the dead to return and kill everyone and everything that wronged them. Then she was flesh and blood and he remembered.

    She had been on the guest list just like every year since she began serving Noctis, though there was the unspoken knowledge that she might not come. Her self-appointed and Royally-approved duties ensured her few visits to the capital were sparse and random. But Noctis stubbornly kept her name on the list and in time, Prompto's name appeared alongside hers and everyone indulged him because unlike his — ridiculous, utter loyalty-inspiring — father, Noctis never asked for much.

    Except this year was special. He was twenty, past being a legal adult, he was now eligible for the throne and marriage. The gala was more for Insomnian nobility but Noctis, being the Lucis Caelum he was, made sure to leave his own influence on the party. Dress code no longer demanded formal or even semi formal as per tradition but cocktail party wear. Now anyone who wanted to show off their opulence had to do so creatively. He invited the fishing hobbyists he knew. There was an open, standing invitation for all Kingsglaive in the city as well. It was their presence that alerted Cor to Renée's.

    "Hold still!" a voice hissed somewhere behind a column.

    "I don't understand why." He recognized Renée by her long suffering sigh. "My makeup looks great."

    "It does," the voice agreed amicably, "but those lips need some  _ sparkle _ ."

    Around the corner he saw one of the Kingsglaive — Altius, he remembered as Drautos' bitching about her tendency to leave larger craters than the daemons — hold her face in one hand while she traced lipstick over Renée's lips before dabbing what looked like glitter on her lower lip. Inspecting, she clicked her tongue in approval before curling an arm around Renée's waist in companionable affection.

    "Let's go wreck some stiffs."

    Renée laughed and then the ballroom devoured them both.

    Insomnian formal events always seemed to be somber affairs considering guests wore subdued colors, mimicking the sombre fate of their Royals, but tonight was different. Jewel tones and vibrant colors swirled around, some dancing, others nibbling on morsels or admiring art engulfed in fish tanks filled with ethereal dreamlike fish. In fact, they were scales of the Tidemother come to life and they looked as fey and deadly as the goddess herself. No one but Regis and Noctis' innermost circles knew the true nature of the fish. Many guests simply thought they were creations of magic and the Prince's obsession with fish.

    After the pathological perimeter patrol he could turn off as easily as stopping his own heart, he found her chatting with Noctis in front of one, Kingsglaive Altius on the dance floor in the arms of another Kingsglaive. Renée smiled a greeting before turning back to Noctis, her hand a claw around her flute of Balaamb Sparkling Red.

    "You had a vision to catch all of them? Who spoke?"

    Noctis, pink-cheeked and bright eyed with excitement, shrugged as if his childhood babysitter wasn't sounding vaguely strangled though not even Cor could understand why. "Probably Siren. I don't know who else speaks human languages. I asked Luna but all she did was reply with a smiley face. I mean, I have to return all of them but Etro's tank tomorrow but still. Worth. It."

    Those seemed to be the words she needed to hear as her hand relaxed. She bumped fists with him, laughing despite her initial panic. Her lips shimmered as they spread wide and amused. "Hell yes it is. Good to see you too, Cor. Who'd believe we'd see each other clean at the same time?"

    His normal deadpan expression cracked and he smiled. The last time they saw each other he found her behind the Hammerhead shop sluicing off bandersnatch guts in nothing but her underwear. "You're even wearing shoes. This is a special day."

    "Smile!" and a camera flashed as all three turned. Prompto tucked his camera into the vibrant floral jacket before he offered a jaunty finger twirl to see Renée's dress. She obliged, showing off how the golden yellow knee length dress gathered at her throat and flowed uninterrupted except for the coil of jewels around her waist. "Looking good Renée! Gladio bet you'd show up in hiking boots."

    She laughed and knocked fists. "Nah, I'm saving them to shove up his ass later. Speaking of, I heard you're all graduated. Should I be calling you Crownsguard Argentum?"

    "Ohmigod please don't. I'm not even on duty rotation."

    She shot a disbelieving look at Cor but before he could even say something — probably in his own defense — she looked back to Prompto and nodded. "You're on Noct-duty. I know that feeling." She leaned in as if the subject of her conversation wasn't pulling on her dress like he was ten again, face stricken with embarrassment. "Just make sure you're comfortable before he falls asleep. My knees will never be the same."

    "Hey!"

    She laughed again, a sound that paired well with Prompto's as he offered her another glass to replace her empty one with a flourish. She always indulged Noctis' retinue, treating them like beloved younger cousins rather than their ranks or lack thereof. But then she had no qualms speaking to him or Drautos in all sorts of tones that would brook court-martial if she had been anyone except her. Amongst their chatter, catching up on life since the last time they saw each other, Regis and Clarus arrived, the usual cluster of sycophants following.

    Renée left her glass in Prompto's care to be swept into a tight embrace, Regis somehow not stabbing himself with the sun-bright rayed pin holding her hair to its artfully disheveled bun. He murmured something before letting her step back. Without words — over time Regis became better at speaking with his eyes — he kissed her knuckles and handed her off to Clarus dressed in shades of blooded ruby, who simply grabbed her hand and swept her to the dance floor.

    After that he didn't get another chance to speak with her, just caught fleeting glances as she danced with a different partner each time he saw her, saw her chatting with someone. The Kingsglaive relaxed when she was near, her hands tucked into crooks of elbows or on the hip as she fit under a shoulder. She was fleeting like warm sunlight in winter and he knew by morning she would be gone from the city.

    The bitter taste in his mouth was not the scotch as he watched from a deserted upper gallery.

    The final dance of the night was Noctis' as his right being Crown Prince. He took Renée to the floor under jealous gazes from his admirers and amused chuckling from those that knew there was nothing more than familial affection between them as he took her into his arms. Musicians played a slow Tenebraean waltz, her skirt swirling with each turn flashing strings of small beads hidden in her dress. It wasn't as effortlessly elegant as when Ignis took her in hand but no one could see it between Noctis' midnight blue and her dress. Noct's expression of serious concentration cracked when Renée whispered some encouragement that had him beaming like the times he received Umbra and Lunafreya's book. His step eased and when they broke apart at song's end both had cheeks pinked in happy exertion. Before she vanished in the crowd he caught her pulling him down and pressing a kiss to his brow. Whispering affectionate words only for him.

    He hadn't thought that night would be the last time he saw her. She was nearly as immortal as him, simply a quieter legend to be whispered by awestruck Kingsglaive. The news from Ostium that she was dead felt as ludicrously unreal as learning Insomnia fell, Regis and Clarus with it. He had tucked the hurt of losing them away and did his duty as best as he could.

    Now with her back, he was at a loss. She no longer vanished like daemons in sunlight, her presence imprinting on his life as easily as she had others. He now shared obscure, everyday moments that had once been his own rare privilege with others, no longer privy to sleepy smiles as she stole his coffee; he still marveled that she took hers the same as him. She smiled and the sleeping beast within him rolled, seeking belly rubs from a particular hand.

    Death was easy; after all, he was Immortal and survived it on a near daily basis. Having someone else return from the dead? That was going to be hard to deal with.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit my [tumblr](http://kheradihr.tumblr.com/) and holler at me.


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